Motley
by HarlequinDreams
Summary: The traditional costume of the court jester is motley, an array of different colors and patterns. Whether calling herself Harlequin or Joker's Daughter, Duela Dent is made of motley. 50scenes challenge for Livejournal.


Familiar Stranger

**Summary- **Tim Drake tends to a wounded guest in Wayne Manor.

**Disclaimer-** The characters of the _Batman _comics belong to the people at DC Comics, Bob Kane, and all the various other writers. I do not own the characters. I merely dabble in the world. Or worlds, as the case may be.

* * *

"If I'd been going any faster— What if I hadn't stopped in time?" The young man asking the question heard the person he was speaking to sigh. Tim understood. He'd said the same thing a hundred times since last night. Even he was sick of hearing himself say it. But if he wasn't saying it, he was thinking it. He felt better saying it out loud, even if he'd figured out that Bruce Wayne wouldn't offer him any real consolation.

"You did stop," the older man repeated.

Tim frowned. "Taking her to Dr. Thompson was a good idea." He paused. "What do you think happened to her?"

"I—"

"Wasn't an accident. Three broken ribs, fractured ankle, all those bruises."

"Tim—"

"Might have been a mugging. She didn't have a purse with her."

"Tim—"

"Girl like that... couldn't be a boyfriend, right? I mean, who would— okay, a lot of guys are assholes like that—"

"Tim." Bruce raised his voice enough to get the nineteen-year-old's attention.

"The young lady is awake, Master Tim," Alfred Pennyworth, loyal butler of Bruce Wayne, said quietly. "She's in need of the medication Dr. Thompson provided last night—"

"Right. I'll take it to her." Tim sprang forward, taking the stairs two at a time.

"And be careful, Master Tim," Alfred called. "She seems rather excitable, and—"

Tim didn't hear the rest. He darted into the bathroom and grabbed a pill bottle. He stopped briefly to fill a glass with water before he carried the pills and water into the guest bedroom.

"Hey," he said, voice lowering. "I brought you your pain pills." He smiled at the girl, but the expression faded quickly. The girl's electric red hair contrasted with her pale skin, and her bloody clothing had seen better days. She stared at him, her wide eyes brimming with tears. "Whoa, whoa! Please don't cry. Please?"

She said nothing. Tim inched forward to set the water down on the nightstand. He rea the bottled, opened it, and took out two of the pills.

"Can you sit up?" he asked.

She tried, only to cry out in pain.

"Okay." He sat on the bed. "I'm just going to help you sit up. I won't hurt you. I promise."

She had no choice. Tim eased her up as gently as he could, mindful of every movement. She clutched at him in pain and tried to hide a sob.

"There," he whispered when she was up.

She picked up the glass on her own and took the pills from him. She downed them with little trouble.

"They're pretty strong," Tim promised. "Won't take 'em long to kick in." He paused to help her settle back into the bed. "I'm really sorry about last night. I took that corner way too fast, but—" He couldn't help it. He had to ask. "What the hell were you thinking, walking into the street like that?"

She didn't answer. Even as the drugs started to kick in, though, Tim saw the gleam in her eyes. She was thinking about something.

"What's your name?" he asked. Tim thought he might have caught her smiling a bit.

"Dee," she muttered.

Tim smiled back at her before he got up. She was already half asleep. He almost thought he heard her say his name as he walked away, but he laughed at himself the next moment. She didn't know his name, after all.

He joined Bruce and Alfred at the bedroom door.

"Her name's Dee," he offered.

"Well, she needs her rest, Master Tim. I will see to breakfast," Alfred replied.

As he left, Tim looked at Bruce. "Hey. I've got a question."

"Hm?"

"You ever—" Tim paused. He didn't know how to explain it. "You ever get that feeling like... like you know someone— really know them— even though you don't?"

Bruce frowned. "Yes, and she was trouble."

Tim stayed put a moment as Bruce headed down the hall. He glanced into the bedroom, watched the girl there sleep a moment, and muttered, "Well, maybe I like trouble."


End file.
